


i dont know if i'ma see you again

by MKYouth



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mutual Pining, Party, War, repeated reference of an emerald pendant, unhappy ending but i try to make it less painful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29256675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MKYouth/pseuds/MKYouth
Summary: She’d snuck behind him; resting a hand on his shoulder and giving a gentle squeeze, “You’re overworking yourself.”And he’d jumped, slammed the book on the emerald and let out a relieved sigh when she looked at him with wide eyes and raised brows—and then, she’d bit her lip and held back a laugh—”You scared me!”He’d stammer and blush and cover the book with clammy hands and she’d giggle and tease and lean against his chair with a sideways glance down at his work.“What are you working on?” She would speak along with narrow eyes down at the scattered notes.And he’d, as always, stutter a half lie---He and She romance bits featuring an emerald pendant and yearning, but uh... well you know the lore.
Relationships: Blaze Empress & Sandy, He/She, Sandy & He & She
Comments: 12
Kudos: 23





	i dont know if i'ma see you again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the hardcore lore babes - love you AMEN](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=the+hardcore+lore+babes+-+love+you+AMEN).



> title from 'See You Again' by Mr. Tyler the Creator, I'm just saying "Can I get a kiss? and can you make it last forever? I said I'm 'bout to go to war and I don't know if I'ma see you again." is so . . . 
> 
> anyway, heres the manifestation of my building hatred for romance fanfics suddenly withering away within a few days and me reading the hardcore lore documents [finally wrapped my head around it no more colorza strict fanfics or the twt's dating or whatever the fuck personified minecraft animals/buildings/wood is]

He rubs a thumb over the emerald pendant sat firm in his hand, flames flickering in the reflection of the green gem and lapping over each other like waves and waves of fire that replicate the bubbling of lava pools deep below the surface the Blaze Empresses home of study. He feels sweat collect in his palm, a cold contrast than that of the flaming world around him. He takes a steady breath, biting at the inside of his cheek and feeling the break of flesh bleed into his mouth, the metallic taste pulling his senses out of the pit they’d seem to have fallen into and clearing the spots in his vision to the orderly halls of the castle. 

He collects the chain into his palm, moving aside the plate of netherite set atop his pant leg and pocketing the necklace. He places a hand against the wall, using the other to drop his own matching version of the jewel behind his clothes and turning into the hall. 

He, in his own odd glory, ducks his head—fingers rubbing against each other and twirling the cluttered rings on his hands, there was a meeting about to end. Muscle memory leads him to the door, the halls, though unfamiliar and confusing to a stranger something ingrained into his heart. _She_ had told _He_ about it—and with that something he’d held off for so long infected his thoughts until the swarm was too loud to ignore. 

The crack of a door, chatter, and He feels his face flush a dark crimson to match the nether brick beneath his feet. 

And She, She looks at him with a warm smile, a gentle hum escapes her lips and She takes coming steps to him. 

And He pulls his eyes away and grips his hand tight around the jewel around his neck, the chain falling between the space of his thumb and the stone—the emerald gem clasped in gold wiring dancing around in a fidget. Sandy gives a fall of her eyes over the two from the doorway, She waving a dismissive hand and Sandy shaking her head with a soft breath and rolling eyes closes them off. 

“You came,” She smiles—eyes as bright as the nether floor, “Off we are, then?”

He releases a breath he hadn't known he’d kept in, “Yes—Yes, of course of c—to the Wither room?”

“Just the right place.” She purses her lips without a drop of malice in sight, her lightly armored arm looping through his own. He turns his head gaze away from her. Tapping a rhythm onto the jewel in his pocket and begging his heart to stop with the similar pattern. He rubs his cheek on his shoulder, blinking away the fuzzy nonsense in his head.

She guides him down beet stairs, her free hand grazing the railing—to a stranger they’d seem to lovers walking down their personal path, to a common folk they’d be known as two of the most powerful people in the Nether. He&She, never one or the other—but two, a power duo only a rank below the Empress herself, two to reign down terror on those who threaten the land when the time comes—and to a knowing eye one would find no such difference between the two descriptions. He&She, a bound separated by forces that they’d never find in control.

“The withers can walk,” She sighs, “At this rate we’ll be turning our army by the end of the year, Blaze she’s… been talking about something new.”

“Oh?” He breaks away from her arm, pushing open a door at the end of the hall, “Surely…”

“It’s nothing fleshed out yet, just an idea. I doubt we’re going to see anything of it—besides, potions?” She takes a step into the brewing room, glowstone gently illuminating the stands lined against the edge of the wall’s shelves, the stuffy space flavored with the smell of thousands and thousands of ingredients from across the dimensions. 

He grazes a thumb over the gem in his pocket, “Right—Right, potions.”

* * *

He keeps it in his pocket every day of the year. 

She opens opportunities just as often. 

* * *

No matter the occasion, He finds the thought prodding at the back of his mind with everything She does. When she pulls back the string of an arrow in front of the thousands of skeletons awaiting their time, He tugs at the gold chain around his neck and imagines himself right then and there presenting the jewel mid demonstration before the army of undead; but reason wiggles it’s way to the front of his mind and makes his face flush, eyes dart, and a wave of buzz fall down his body and itch him away from the thoughts. 

When they’re left alone at a gathering of people against the King, when the Elder and Empress are sealed away into a secret room and the two guard the door he lets his hand fall in his pocket, grip it with the intent to shatter the glass casing around his heart and present it to her. Then, when the fluttery feeling in his chest disappears and he stands taller then he’d ever managed before—the door cracks open and the sea king bids his goodbyes to the two, and with the mask He always wears, he gives a smile and a wave goodbye while the necklace burns worse than the charge of a blaze—a tease of what he could have done.

And yet, nothing makes him cover his eyes and hit his head any more than the moments alone he fails to live in.

Days where it’s the two in a study, late at night—their armor dressed on stands and their most common wear robes covering their arms and bodies to warm them while the nether is the coldest it can be—laughs and smiles and crossed eyes filling his head with wonder and stars, fuzz blurring his thoughts and a warmth for once in his life blooming from the inside. 

She, She never looks more beautiful than she is in these moments. 

And her shine, brighter than anything he’d seen in the brightest place in the world—makes him forget. He finds remembering a terrible thing. 

Everyday, he tells himself silent affirmations to the word. _Today_ — _Another time_ — _Later_ — _After this_ — _One day._

She finds him one night—whenever that be—in the deep of the fortress’ study, shelves and shelves of books towering over him and crowding the halls and room; the glow of a shroomlight illuminating the desk in front of him, He had been hunched over a few books, discarded and cast to the side—between the pages of a thick cover the gem, reflecting the scar like pattern of the shroomlight onto his own face in the green. His eyes were narrowed and brows furrowed, this mind wandering places She’d never adventured on her own.

She’d stood in the doorway, figure casting a shadow onto the floor. Unaware of the importance, the things, the events playing back in his head as she watched with contempt from the domesticity of the scene. 

She’d snuck behind him; resting a hand on his shoulder and giving a gentle squeeze, “You’re overworking yourself.”

And he’d jumped, slammed the book on the emerald and let out a relieved sigh when she looked at him with wide eyes and raised brows—and then, she’d bit her lip and held back a laugh—” _You scared me!_ ”

He’d stammer and blush and cover the book with clammy hands and she’d giggle and tease and lean against his chair with a sideways glance down at his work.

“What are you working on?” She would speak along with narrow eyes down at the scattered notes.

And he’d, as always, stutter a half lie; “Magma cubes—just, short bio… biology notes the Empress asked of me a few days ago—”

“Scramming it last minute?” She raised a brow, leaning dangerously over his shoulder and picking up a notecard with rushed coal writing filling to the brim—he moved the book to the side, shoving his hand between the separated pages and wrapping a finger with the chain. 

“Y—yeah,” He scratched at the back of his head, hair falling between his fingers—and then he’d realized how long it’d been since he properly bathed, “It’s easy stuff just…”

“Annoying?” She drops it back down on the desk—flipping through a random book and giving little attention to the words on each page, her free rubbing gentle circles on his back, “I know the feeling.”

He huffs, pulling the necklace out of the book—”That—I know well.”

“Peas of a pod me and you, always reckless in the same places.” 

He pockets the jewel, “It’ll get us killed one day.”

She tightens her grip around his shoulder, snapping the elastics of his clothes onto his skin—he yelps; “Don’t talk like that, in the midst of war? You’ll jinx it.”

“If it doesn’t happen now it won't happen ever—we’ll die from speedbridging over lava than too an enderman,” He scoots over in the chair, “Join me?”

She waves a hand, wrapping her arm around his shoulder and sitting a leg in the chair with him—”Sandy’s been getting on me about studies lately, you know.”

He holds back a tense under her arm; a tint coming to his cheeks as he opens up a few books all the while she leans on his shoulder; “Oh—oh yeah?”

“Yeahyeah—It’s all withers and skeletons and ghasts and blah blah blah these days, I adore the physical work. Nothing is more thrilling than teaching the undead how to aim a bow—fighting a wither skeleton to test their strengths, it’s wonderful but I just wish these days we’d fall of the technical sides and just seize up with it already,” She leans into the touch, wildly moving her hand about as she speaks, “Though I don’t think the Empress would like it if I said any of that near her, eh?”

She gives him a side glance, their eyes meeting for the shortest of moments. He clears his throat, letting out a breath and reading over work; “And you’re telling me?”

“Of course I am.”

She pauses, her gaze falling and fuzzing out; her smile thinning into a small upturn of the lips—a dust covering her cheeks and the lightest of tone coming with her next breath, “You’re my best friend.”

His heart stops, the pencil in his hand strains against his force—and the chain of the necklace burns a hole through his pants.

His hand hovers it—just for a moment.

“But—anyway, magmas right?”

And the moment passes, and he relaxes, and he goes back to work.

“I don’t think the Empress will be too happy about this one—but, I think I’m done with it.” He collects the scattered notes, “Wanna go strider fishing?”

“Oh, you know me so well.”

She hops out of the chair, he pockets the notecards, and he shoves the falling chain back where it needs to go. 

He ignores that night, how warm his pendant feels—and how big his heart grows.

* * *

It never comes.

* * *

Sandy was the start of a lot of things. 

From her close upbringing along the Empress, nearly sisterly in its way; tied at the hip, separate in skill—yet power equally the same. The balance of the two in equilibrium, in war keeping them ahead. She was the start of _Blaze’s_ status. Her whispers and knowledge, her studies of the land throwing fuel into her fire and burning out embers on her own when she shouldn’t. She was the start of the great strides in their research of skeletons, withers, the effect and the raw power that would emerge from the hellish form of a Wither, all alone. She was the start of a peculiar friendship many would come to be familiar with.

Eight years ago to now. 

Introduced at a party, a ball of the more pretentious classes. She’d grabbed her two friends by the wrists and led them into the back, hushed introductions rushed under the moonlight within the earthly realm—her hands bringing theirs intertwined as she’d unroot the dirt of a hedge maze and sat them both down to experience a new life. They’d made jokes then, unknowing to the life they’d live in the future. Poor taste turning to crinkled noses, stuttered words bringing innocent flush, hands over hearts and spills of words. 

Although the world threw the lives they’d tried to live off a cliff and into a pit of burning lava, she’d try to bring back the first days, first nights, to their forefront when available—when _possible._ Finding The Empress away from the testing zones, her nails stained with layers of soot and her mind stuck in the rut of work—finding She within the fortress, bartering with piglins and tossing her gold—bringing He from a moment of isolation and to the lively room they’d all used to use when the days were less straining. 

Almost a still in time. 

But those moments are quickly brought to end, they aren't teens anymore, there was no adult to take up the importance of time while they buzzed off with treats and magic to silly their problems away—but, they were adults. 

And with being an adult comes the ability to create your own importance. 

Sandy sets up a ball. 

In the midst of War, what better thing to do than set up treaties?

It's nearly an establishment of power, to gather all the opposing sides of a singular man in one place. Gowns crafted in silks and fabrics that would cost more than the amounted gold within a monument, jewels hanging off ears, necks, and ties a show of wealth rather than style. The Empress comes with slits in petticoats and reds layered upon oranges and yellows—brighter than the sheath of a blaze, she’d stand at the side of Sandy all the while the two would walk through the crowds of upper class commonwealth from the overworld and atlantic peoples. Sandy herself dresses simple, her origins from non nether realms to establish connections with those attending who follow the same routes, distantly, she forms an understanding with the _Elder_ across the room. 

He and She; though released from duties, they’d keep stand by the throne—their eyes narrow and lips tight, it throws Sandy to a fit—nearly—but in the presence of many she sends them glares and continues on. They stand tall with lightly armored dressup and dazzling blazers, matching clothes from years of tied together uniform leaking into out of work life. Unintentionally, an emerald jewel finds itself sneaking out from behind a shirt—and as that goes, attention is drawn to one of the most expensive items in the room. 

She goes along He, light chatter spilling from her as she keeps eyes on the crowd—her focus too fuzzed on a general to notice the coming one, and only when the man taps His shoulder and draws a slight jolt and furrowed brows she turn.

“Excuse me, young man—” The man coughed, talking down to He with the attitude of security—the irony itches He’s mind, “but may I ask about the jewel you wear so proudly on your neck?”

And at that He tenses, grabbing at the jewel and tucking it under his shirt as She sends him a side glance, raising a brow as she eavesdrops the conversation, “Oh it’s—it’s nothing, nothing. Just a gem.”

The old man taps his cane to the ground, “Just a gem? You’re a rich man to consider that _just a gem._ You wear an emerald—nowadays rarer to find than a diamond—around your neck?”

“Oh—sir—I apologize for the insensitivity,” He says dry, “I hadn't known.”

A lie. When a gem is rarer than diamond, it’s pact with another would be stronger than anything else to be imagined—it’s what had gone over his mind while meeting in an old witch’s hut, setting the two long sought emeralds on the table and begging for something special, tossing a bag of gold along their side. Regret never pooled about that, the intricacies of the product and the rarity of it all impressing himself—something he’d always imagined in dreams for her. 

The man lets out a hearty laugh, “ _Oh_ —no son, you’re lucky to have that power.”

“Ah… yea—yeah.” He bites the inside of his cheek, leaning away from the man and into She’s area, she holds down a smirk; gaze falling between a side stare and a look on the crowd, finger tapping the edge of her belt rhythmically as He prays for the time to go on. 

And pass it does.

Sandy clears her throat from behind the old man, noise causing him to turn; she offers a kind smile, starting idle chatter with him as She wraps her hand around his wrist—dragging him away from the scene and to the doorway of the fortress’ ballroom, She offers him a lopsided grin—his eyes trailing to anywhere but her, hand pulling at the neckline of his shirt.

“Oh rich boy aren't you?” She jabs at his chest with a finger, letting out a small laugh, “If I’d known I would have gotten closer to you sooner!”

He shakes his head, a begrudging smile on his face; “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing,” She leans against a pillar, “What a mess this is.”

She waves her hand over the crowd, “So much shine, hurts my eyes—coming from someone born and raised in the nether.”

“As if you’re not shining on your own right now,” He runs his gaze over her, shards of glowstone dusting a halo into her hair, dress satin, blazer over dripping with gold chain—”Look at all that _shine_.”

She rolls her eyes, “Dickhead—” 

“What's all this about?” Sandy enters the scene, a glass in her hand as she approaches the two from the side, “Argueing? At my party? What the fuck!”

“It’s friendly banter.” She punches him lightly on the side, He sighs and covers his eyes with an arm—ears turning red. 

“It’s always friendly banter, get a room.” Sandy grins into her glass, taking a sip and leaning against a wall with the two. 

He feels the flush extend to the rest of his face, arm dropping; “Sandy you’re the worst.”

“I’m insulted—,” Sandy trails a finger on the rim of the cup, “What was that man doing over with you?”

She pipes up; “He was getting bothered over _jewelry_. Our boys’ a rich man, who would've thought?”

“ _Really?_ In these times? Who knew war wages would get us this far.”

“Guyyysss I’m right here—” He pulls at She’s sleeve, “I’m still scraping up to Blaze’s ass please—”

She pulls him close, hugging his arm and making shushing noises; “Hush hush, the teasing will be over soon son.”

Sandy makes a gag noise, chugging the rest of the dark liquid within the glass and shaking her head at the two. She lets go of him, letting out a fit of giggles; all the while He feels the pendant around his neck burn a hole through his chest and memory of getting dressed suddenly bringing the reality that the other was locked up away—no chances of confessions in party halls or drunken in doorwats—just a day of friendship celebration between the four.

He shakes the flush off his face, looking between his two laughing friends with a warm smile; “I’m never letting you take me to one of these again.”

Sandy blows him a raspberry, “You wouldn’t know anyone here without me.”

“I know.” He hums, making short eye contact with She—he turns away, “I know.”

Across the room there’s a ting of metal, and the room faces the Empress.

“Let the festivities begin,” Sandy breathes, grabbing at the two’s wrists and taking them away.

* * *

Serenity falls over the nether.

* * *

But it doesn’t last for long.

War had loomed over the horizon for some time, the break and frequent deal of attacks from the Ender King across all realms getting more frequent—more strong, _powerful_ as each week passed by. Trades between the two peacekeeping realms amped up as attacks got stronger, research hurried; it failed, withers leaking into the rest of the nether and bringing violence upon the old lands. Fortress floors turning deadly and sending piglins out of their homes; the Empress holds desperately onto her land as these times go by, the Ender King targeting her as the world breaks panic. The Elder takes her backup, his plans setting into actions as hers derail. 

And with that; the world they lived in turned on its head.

There were no more late nights staying up with reading and research.

There were no more battle lessons, pulled back bows and readied swords.

No more fun between the four, no more fun between the three, no more fun between the two.

What there was went like this.

_The fortress walls shake as the endermen raid through the halls, withers set loose into the hallways equipped with stone swords and charred bones—Blaze stays at the main room of her research, years of studies for the wither skeletons protected individually by her hands; she holds with herself a netherite blade, enchanted to the max and sharpened against the wall, Sandy—though never the strongest, takes it to leave her side. Taking stands with He and She as they go to keep their home up; all the while it shakes, a tar of blackness enveloping the world around them._

_Endermen flood the halls; skeletons armed with bows and piglins desperately defending themselves upon being found in the crossfire, blazes wild but contained throw projectiles yet the dark creatures dodge, ghasts work outside—but the void makes them cry terrible shrieks and fallback…_

_Sandy stands in the crossing of a hall, He and She at her sides; several endermen surrounded the three—blades are thrown, stabbed, continued no matter and tire pulls at their limbs, the gift of teleportation a terrible spell for them to keep up against. Walls cave in, bricks thrown down, and for a moment—they find a still in the chaos._

Shaking; Sandy breathes shallow, fast paced breaths—running a hand through her hair, “You have to leave.”

“What?” She furrows her brows, lips a thin line; jaw in lock, “and just leave you? Fucking leave you like that?”

Sandy nods her head no, but she intends otherwise. Her hands rubbing at the nape her neck, wide eyes staring at the wall—a hole in their safespace showing the world beyond, endermen run widely; their hands grabbing at this and that, taking down their world with no care; “Yes, I can—I can take it on my own.”

Sandy swallows, a hand wrapping around the sword at her belt; “You need to be safe.”

He runs a hand through his hair, grabbing at Sandy’s shoulder—”What about you?”

“What the fuck Sandy,” She grips in fists, grabbing at Sandy’s arm and gesturing around; “We can’t just leave you, you’ll _die_ —you’re setting up yourself for something impossible!”

Sandy shrugs them both off, taking a step closer to the opening, “You two have a better chance out there without me.”—She gives a small smile, eyes curled with water, “I’ve never been the bronze between us all.”

She stares, emotion contorting into a storm; teeth grinding under a frown, eyes wide as they fill with tears; “No… _no—no—_ ”

She latches on—she repeats with something they’d never seen before—Sandy stares with an empty gaze, letting She cry into her shoulder—letting she kick and scream as He wraps arms around her shoulders and pulls her back, She yells, and yells, and yells, until her voice turns coarse, like the soul sand they’d crossed together so many times before—until her limbs go slack, against his arms, the fighting drained from her soul—and until Sandy is able to give a final goodbye in the form of a nod, a smile, and a rub at the eyes.

He turns his head away from it all; letting the feelings overtake his heart, and the _fear_ control it.

She pulls her eyes away from Sandy.

“Fine,” She breathes, sharp—hand gripping at her sword, “We’ll go.”

And Sandy nods; turning away from them both—they break a hole into the back of the wall—and they don’t stay around long enough to hear it all go to hell.

* * *

The thing about fortresses is that they’re like a labyrinth; unless you’ve built the walls on your own, like the Empress, the two, and _Sandy_ —all those years ago—you’d not know how to escape.

None of the endermen in their nextpath were able to escape She’s wrath. 

Nearly robotic in nature; the next few moments of their life, knowledge of failure falling over them in a thick coat; it slows down their movements, precision going to pure aim, battle keeping them forward—not bothering to clean off bloodshed or stay behind to clean up wounds, no, the only task now was to make it out alive—and no matter what, it seemed making it that path would be the most difficult thing yet. 

And maybe that's how life is; cruel, with its ways, because as they enter a spawner—old and dysfunctional, the roof too low to bring in blazes, to let endermen roam—he’s reminded of something he’d always wanted to do.

The emerald pendant falls out of his pocket—left there long ago—and he leans to grab it; staring into his reflection in the gem, eyes sunken and tired—red and stained from tears shed in battle and in peace, “You know I’ve always wanted to do something with this.”

She stares into the hall before them, leaning over her knees; “Mhm?”

He turns, wrapping the jem around her neck and letting it shine under limited light.

“Fitting.”

“You think?”

And for a moment they’re thrown back into studying scenes; books sprawled about and worries thrown away—something better, grant taken so many times unknowing to the true realities they’d one day have to face.

She grabs at the jewel; rubbing a thumb over and leaving a streak of soot, “It’s lovely.”

She hesitates her words, _just like you_ stands on the tip of her tongue—where there it stays.

He takes a long breath, “Remember me, alright?”

“I could never forget,” She leans on his armored shoulder, tire pulling on her limbs, “It’s been a great ride.”

He lets his head fall over hers, “One of the best.”

They sit.

But all good things must come to an end.

Endermen fill the hall eventually; they stand, weapons in hand, the crowds get thick, it becomes hard to keep track of each other, separation finds their ways—corners are taken, shut in, and overpowered they become. 

Regret pools in his stomach.

And so does it in hers.

* * *

  
  


The world comes to a still around _The Empress_.

Never has she mourned as hard as she does then.

* * *

_The stars shine brighter when you’re alone._

Sometimes, when he flies at night Phil can hear them, whispering sweet nothings to each other while wrapped in each other's arms somewhere far. Those days are good ones, the temperatures warm but with a cool breeze, he does a lot those days; hearing tales of past lives in everything.

When he explores the nether he hears sorrys from their lives.

He opens a chest, emerald dazzling inside, a gold chain attacked at the top—he hears the words clear in his mind, the story attached; _“I’m sorry for never telling you I’m sorry for never admitting I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so—_ ”

Sometimes he enters the strange void and walks along the castle floor; he hears about parties, about games, about life. Sometimes he enters the strange void and hears cries of a broken lady, everything torn from her arms in one day and given no time to recover from it at all. 

Sometimes when he barters with a piglin he can hear him. Arguing with her about this and that and the statistics and logic behind how to do it right. Sometimes when he attacks a zombie, he can hear another going over how confusing the virus could be.

Sometimes when he breaks nether brick floor; he hears her part from them. 

Sometimes the ghosts of the past are happy; sometimes they are sad; in loss, in pride, in an embarrassing flush—yet, at all times he finds himself reveling in their stories. They’d left behind a life so interesting, so intricate, and so _strange_ to him—he couldn’t imagine his own without them.

He dubs them their own names; textbooks erasing identities, notes scribbled with nicknames and teases that give insight to a life once had; decidedly, ones _Sandy_ —another _The Blaze Empress_ —and the two tragic and warm, _He and She._

He doesn’t fail to explore other tales; finding intrigue in _The Elder_ _Guardian_ —confusion in _The Ocean Overlord_ —and so much to unpack in _They,_ old wiring he’d undo himself if he could.

Sometimes he takes a step back from it all and watches the stars.

Sometimes he sees them above; living the life they were once robbed from. 

And sometimes he rubs a thumb over an emerald pendant, shining bright under the moon, and smiles something he’d never fully understand. 

**Author's Note:**

> every time i write smth new i go 'wow, i am such a philza enjoyer' cause now this is the third time i got invested in smth somewhat based on him and cried abt it while writing it [sleepytwt/pantstwt, colorzas... this...]
> 
> anyway aha 
> 
> [follow me on twitter](https://twitter.com/meavaly)
> 
> [carrd](https://mky.carrd.co/#)
> 
> [read this fic [it's about the colorzas!]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27544186)
> 
> Only 1% of my readers end up leaving a kudos. So, if you enjoyed this fic leave a kudos and maybe even a comment. If you really like this work consider checking out my profile and reading other works of mine! You can even subscribe to my AO3 profile, it's free and notifies you about when I update a work or post one-sending a notif straight to your email! If you end up not liking the feature you can always unsubscribe later.


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